


Light in the Dark

by Lady_of_the_Flowers



Series: Epistles [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Fire Nation Won, Angst, Colonialism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Flowers/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Flowers
Summary: At least there were still the stars, he thought, gritting his teeth and resuming his slow walk, feet crunching unevenly in the stiff snow. At least there were still the Southern Lights to mark the way home during the black days of deepest winter. It turned out you could get used to anything, even the absence of the moon, with time.





	Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> spin-off from chapter 23 of Epistles, several years down the line. about as dark as you'd imagine in a fire-nation-wins!AU

It had been 2,053 days since the Avatar was imprisoned, and Sokka could remember every single one of them with unbearable clarity. The siege of the North had ended in shattering defeat, waterbending wiped off the face of the earth forever with Yue’s death. There had not been enough of the Moon in her to bring Tui back. It was a blow the Water Tribes, both North and South, couldn’t hope to recover from. A blow Katara had barely been able to recover from, either. 

Things had only only gotten worse from there. All those refugee camps in the Earth Kingdom the gang had traveled through, offering whatever aid they could, the way Ba Sing Se’s outer wall sounded as it fell, like every hope in every heart across the world was falling at the same time. And then the fires raging for months across the land, eating up everything in reach. It had almost been a relief when the last city-state committed itself to the Fire Nation’s tender mercies. At least then the worse of the fighting was over. 

Sokka paused on his way back to the village to stare up at the dark sky overhead, giving himself a break. His leg hurt pretty much all the time in the cold, and it was always cold at the South Pole. 

He should be more grateful, Gran Gran reminded him whenever he complained. He and Katara had been allowed to go home. She had no idea how it happened, how they managed to come back when practically everyone who’d ever even spoken to the Avatar was being rounded up and taken away. She only knew enough to be grateful. Sokka knew more. 

At least there were still the stars, he thought, gritting his teeth and resuming his slow walk, feet crunching unevenly in the stiff snow. At least there were still the Southern Lights to mark the way  home during the black days of deepest winter. It turned out you could get used to anything, even the absence of the moon, with time. 

He’d heard from Aang last week, a little scrap of paper pressed into his hand by a transient worker passing through, reading  _ I’m fine, miss you guys, send K my love.  _ It was the only thing Aang ever wrote, some variation on the same theme.  _ I’m fine.  _ Sokka didn’t believe it for even a minute, but there was nothing he could do. Not here, not now. Not with his leg the way it was - broken in three places and poorly set, and then broken again, so wrecked even the Fire Nation healers who’d come to look at it after the final battle couldn’t do anything to help. 

_ Not that they really wanted to help anyway, _ Katara said sometimes, her voice dripping with bitterness. But it was more complicated than that. Those healers were good, no matter what Katara thought. They were some of the best, sent specifically to find him in the chaos following the Earth Kingdom’s defeat, when no one would notice, and fewer still would remember. 

It was clever, really. Another reason Sokka never believed Zuko when he claimed he didn’t have the same quick intelligence as his sister and father did. 

The lights of the village were nearing, thank the spirits. It had been a long day spent hunting ptarmigan-gulls further down the coast with some of the kids who weren’t quite old enough to go work in the mines yet. Sokka had let them run on ahead, inexhaustible the way children are, carrying their catches proudly home, while he took his time with the return journey alone. Not the wisest of ideas, maybe, in retrospect. But too late now. 

Still, the trip was definitely worth the effort. Tomorrow the C shift had a rest day, and would be returning to the village for the first time in weeks. They’d want to eat a home-cooked meal and sleep in their own beds, and boast to one another about what good providers their children were - everyone pretending for a day and a night that things were fine at home, that no one went hungry, that no one was sick, that soldiers never came. They would take those sparks of life back with them to the mines and hold onto them as long as they could, waiting and dreaming of the next time they got to visit. 

It was mostly a curse, that Fire Nation geologists had found coal seams under the thick inland ice-pack. But in some ways, selfish ways, Sokka also thought it was a blessing. 

Well, he did now. He hadn’t, at first. Back when construction of the mine was just starting and the village felt like a ghost town, every able-bodied worker vanished into Fire Nation transport vehicles,  and all Sokka and Zuko did when they saw each other was argue, he didn’t see how things could possibly get worse. 

But then Zuko finally explained that if the Fire Nation hadn’t found anything - and for a while it looked like they wouldn’t - there would have been mass relocations, the entire working population of the Southern Water Tribe, men and women alike, shipped off to more ‘productive’ regions in the former Earth Kingdom - sooty wastelands where where children would be sent away for re-education in colonial schools and never return, never know what it felt like to have ancient ice beneath their boots and clean, cold air in their lungs. 

Of course, the air wasn’t exactly clean here either, these days, not with those huge coal-dust storms that moved through from time to time and painted the snow black, but when Sokka argued that forced labor at home wasn’t necessarily better than forced labor somewhere else, Zuko said,  _ yeah, but it’s not worse.  _ And Sokka had conceded the point. 

There were a lot of things that could be worse. 

The village dogs started barking as he got closer, but as soon as they recognized it was him, they quieted and came with wagging tails to snuffle around his pockets, smelling blood and hoping for a treat. 

“Alright, alright,” Sokka grinned, and tossed them some scraps left over from processing the birds. He always saved a little something for the dogs - they were one of the village’s main lines of defense, now that he, the only man under the age of seventy-five around, was no longer a viable option. 

“Sokka? Is that you?” Katara called, poking her head out the door of the small metal shipping container they pretended to live in whenever the governor came for an official visit. 

“Yup,” He said, and walked the last few feet into the house before collapsing onto the first chair he saw with a groan. 

“You should have warned me you’d be late,” She said, bustling around the tiny room like she always did when she was anxious, “When all the kids came back without you, I thought…”

“I just needed some peace and quiet,” Sokka said, loosening the string of ptarmigan-gulls he’d caught and laying it out on the table, “Do you know how exhausting it is to listen to the Sagilik twins argue about nothing for eight hours straight? Eight hours! I thought my ears were gonna fall off.” 

Katara smiled at that, “Who started it this time?”

“Who even knows?” Sokka threw up his hands, “If I have a permanent bump on my forehead from all the face-palming I’ve had to do, don't be surprised.”

“Well, let me get you some dinner. It’s sea-prune stew. Another one of Gran Gran’s suitors brought it by,” She said, and stepped neatly around the bundled up hides and poles leaning up against the wall to get to the ‘kitchen,’ such as it was. He half-listened to her talk about Gran Gran’s tumultuous love life - apparently being the grandmother of two almost-saviors of the world was a big deal, in the old person dating scene, not that he wanted to know anything about that - while eyeing the disassembled tent that was taking up most of their space.

In a couple of days, Governor Shu of the so-called ‘Southern Provinces’ would have come and gone, along with his high-profile mystery guest, and they could set it up again. Or, well, Katara could set it up, and he could kind of hop around pretending to be useful.

The tent was the same one Sokka and Katara had grown up with, although they’d had to replace the hides a couple years ago after some bored Fire Nation soldiers ripped them to shreds, an act of retaliation for the simple fact of Sokka and Katara’s continued existence. 

Before every official visit, the Fire Nation had inspectors go village to village, tearing down what tents and igluit were left standing so it would look like people had moved permanently into the cramped metal boxes the Fire Nation considered ‘acceptable’ housing. 

_ Public safety hazards,  _ was the usual excuse.  _ Something something something building codes. _

But as soon as the last out-of-touch bureaucrat left the Southern Water Tribe for their mansions in warmer climates, all the tents went back up and the snow houses got re-built, right next to the shipping container houses they’d been assigned to. It created a weird kind of double vision. Blink and you’re in the Southern Water Tribe. Blink and you’re in a Fire Nation labor camp.  _ Magic.  _

Sokka had just settled down to a steaming hot bowl of sea-prune stew when there was a knock on their door. He sat up straighter, exchanging a worried glance with Katara. No one from the village knocked - it just wasn’t done. There it was again, quiet, almost tentative.

“I’ll get it,” Sokka said, pushing himself to his feet.

“No, wait -” Katara stood up too, but he was a lot closer, which was the only reason he got there first. 

“Yes?” Sokka asked, pulling open the door, half his body angled behind it to hide the club Katara had surreptitiously handed him. 

It was Zuko, standing nervously on the threshold, recognizable despite the black cloak pulled around him, hood up to hide his face. 

“Hi,” Sokka said dumbly. He could feel rather than see Katara rolling her eyes beside him. 

“Hey,” Zuko said in his raspy voice, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, quickly,” Sokka said, and pulled the door open just a bit more, wide enough for him to slip inside. The village had its eyes and ears trained pretty much constantly on house #7, especially during official visits. It seemed like every soldier who passed through the area took it upon themselves to gawk at the siblings who’d tried to take down the Fire Nation and failed, and spit at their feet. 

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Katara said, nodding at Zuko with grudging courtesy as she left. She’d spend the night at Gran Gran’s house, like she always did when Sokka had a visitor, and run interference in case anyone got it into their heads to come rubbernecking outside #7. 

Zuko’s mouth twisted unhappily, “I still don't know why she doesn’t like me,” he said. Sokka resisted the urge to laugh. Zuko could be so clueless sometimes. 

“She doesn't think you’re doing enough to help us. All of us, not just me and her,” Sokka said, and eased back down into his chair, trying not to let it show how much it hurt. 

He’d pushed himself too hard today, and there was going to be hell to pay tomorrow morning when he couldn’t get out of bed. It was worth it, though, to get a decent haul. The last two trips he’d come back with almost nothing. This time he’d had to go further afield - the good hunting grounds that used to be near the village kept disappearing. 

“If you want something to eat or drink, help yourself,” Sokka continued, picking up his bowl of stew again. 

Zuko shook his head, then seemed to remember his manners and said, “No, thank you.” He pulled a bag out from the folds of his cloak instead, and set it on the table. 

“I brought some stuff,” He said awkwardly, “Not sure what you needed, but.” 

Sokka gave the contents of the bag a cursory glance. Medical supplies, non-perishable foods, the usual. 

“Did you bring any of that fireweed salve?” Sokka asked. He’d run out a few weeks ago, which was probably another reason his leg had been so bad lately. 

“Of course,” Zuko said, and pulled out a jar from the depths of the bag, handing it to Sokka. Sokka took it with only a shadow of hesitation. It still felt like charity, no matter how many times Zuko said it wasn’t, no matter how desperately the supplies were needed. 

Zuko unfastened his cloak and draped it over the back of the chair Katara had abandoned, then sat down. He was wearing a plain military uniform - not even a gold pin in his topknot to distinguish him from a common foot soldier - the harsh lines making him look tired and severe. Sokka liked it anyway. Seen from the right angle, he looked sixteen again, and Sokka could imagine they were still teenagers, the last time in both their lives they were even remotely free. 

“Katara is right,” Zuko said after a long moment’s contemplation of his hands, his voice flat, matter-of-fact, “I’m not doing enough. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you.” 

“Only one of them?” Sokka winked, and Zuko flushed prettily in the low light. He was still so easy to embarrass, even now. 

“Well, I mean, I always  _ want  _ to see you,” He mumbled, “Sorry it took so long this time. I got stuck putting down riots in the Western Agricultural Province for five months.” 

“I understand,” Sokka said. He knew Zuko’s responsibilities would always come first, “I heard about the riots. Didn’t know you were there. They sounded pretty brutal.” 

Zuko’s lips thinned, “Fifty five dead. Three hundred and seventy one wounded. I remember all their names, too, in case you were wondering.” 

He sounded defensive, still responding to something Sokka had shouted at him once, ages ago, on his first visit to the South Pole.  _ Do you even know the names of the people whose deaths you’re responsible for? Are they even  _ people _ to you? Or are we just animals that need to be put down?  _

“I wasn’t, but I know someone who’s definitely interested in those names,” Sokka said mildly, setting aside his empty bowl, “She - I mean, they’ve been trying to get together an accurate list, but it’s been difficult with all the conflicting reports coming out of the region.” 

Zuko nodded. They both knew who Sokka was talking about. 

Suki and a handful of the remaining Kyoshi Warriors were running a pirate radio station using equipment Sokka had stolen, with the inventor’s help, from a fleet of Fire Nation warships. It was one of the last things he’d done before his leg got shattered a second time, and his only regret was that he hadn’t stolen enough to start up a broadcast from the South Pole, too. He’d been working on cobbling a transmitter together with bits and pieces, but it was slow going, especially with no one around to explain how it worked. 

“Don’t tell me any more,” Zuko said, like he always did, “I can’t know too much or it might endanger -” 

“I  _ know, _ ” Sokka said, and leaned forward to touch Zuko’s hand. Zuko’s fingers tightened around his reflexively, and Sokka felt a strange pang of longing. He always seemed to miss Zuko the most when Zuko was right in front of him, “So you’re Governor Shu’s mystery guest of the month?” 

Zuko managed to crack a smile, “Is that what you guys have been calling them? You know they’re mostly his mistresses, right?” 

“Sometimes they’re junior officials from Caldera,” Sokka said, pretending to take offense, “Once we even had the assistant under-secretary to the Fire Lord herself! Speaking of, how is your dear sister?”

Zuko made a face, “I don’t want to talk about her.” 

Irritation flared up in Sokka, then receded. He exhaled a tight breath, reminding himself of the rules they’d set almost two years ago, when it became clear that their feelings for each other weren’t going away, no matter how much they fought or how infrequently they saw each other. 

Some subjects were just off-limits, no pushing, no questions asked. 

“We’re doing okay here,” Sokka said, moving on, “Katara’s almost as good at sword-fighting as I used to be. I’m actually thinking about giving her my space sword to keep. It’s not like I’ll ever be much use with it again.” 

“That’s not true,” Zuko frowned. 

“It’s okay,” Sokka said, although it wasn’t, exactly, “I’m still awesome with a boomerang.” And then he moved on from that too, filling Zuko in on local gossip and what he’d heard about conditions in the mines, the toxic runoff last summer that got all those kids sick.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Zuko said, serious. Even as an adult, he looked nothing like his father, the self-proclaimed Phoenix King of the world. There was no ostentation, no display about him. He was just a man - scarred, overworked, intent - and Sokka loved him like wildfire. 

Not to say he didn’t understand Katara’s reservations about the whole situation. He even shared them, sometimes. The tooth-grinding, nail-biting  _ frustration  _ that came from trying to keep everyone you knew and loved from drowning, while Zuko stood there saying  _ I can’t get involved, it’s complicated, family politics,  _ and a hundred other excuses. 

But he did try. At least there was that. 

They talked for a while about Sokka’s dad, who’d been in prison long before the end of the war, currently working off a life sentence at one of the Fire Nation labor camps. Zuko had been talking about arranging some kind of home leave for him, but it didn’t seem likely to happen. Then the subject naturally turned to Zuko’s uncle, who was making all kinds of friends in maximum security prison. With his guards, mostly - the only people he saw, in solitary confinement. And the mood lightened as it always did when the subject turned to Iroh. 

“I don’t get to visit him too often,” Zuko was saying, “My si - the Firelord watches me pretty closely. But he told me to say hello next time I saw you, and thanks for the Labrador tea, it was good.”   

“Tell him I say hi back,” Sokka smiled. Iroh would probably be tearing his hair out right now if he could hear Zuko condensing his undoubtedly very nuanced analysis of the tea’s flavor profile into  _ it was good.  _ Sokka imagined Iroh complaining about it to the guard delivering his daily meal - fond, if a little exasperated, the way he always was when talking about his nephew. A spark of life in a dark place. 

Sokka didn’t mention the note from Aang he’d received. They didn’t ever talk about the Avatar. That was another one of their rules. But Sokka suspected Zuko was keeping tabs on him, too - suspected Zuko might be the reason those little notes made their way out of Iron Mountain in the first place. 

“I’m gonna get some more stew,” Sokka said after a while, leaning over to grab his bowl from the floor, “You sure you don’t want any?” 

Zuko hesitated, then said he’d take a little. He probably wouldn’t have, if he’d known it was stewed sea-prunes, but that was half the fun. Seeing his face the first time he bit into one was a cherished memory that never failed to make Sokka burst out laughing. 

Sokka mentally braced himself, and stood up. Apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job of it, because when he tried to take a step, he stumbled, overwhelmed - _oh_ _wow_ did his leg hurt - dropping his bowl in the process. 

“Fuck,” He gasped, holding onto the back of Zuko’s chair to stabilize himself. Zuko was up like a shot, threading his arm around Sokka’s waist and pulling him close, “I’m okay, I’m okay, just give me a -” 

“Take your time,” Zuko said, voice low in his ear, all warm breath and warm skin, holding him up effortlessly, “I’ve got you.” 

Sokka took a slow, deep breath, then exhaled, visualizing the pain flowing out of him. It was something Aang had taught him to do before the final battle, when Sokka wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight on his half-healed leg.

Tonight, of course, he just wanted to be able to fuck. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to cop a feel,” Sokka said, once the pain had receded a little, and gave him a salacious look. Zuko laughed at that, even as he coughed into his fist to try and hide it. 

“What if I am?” Zuko asked, tightening his arm around Sokka’s waist until Sokka was flush up against the hard planes of his body, “What’re you going to do about it?” 

Sokka grinned, but he couldn’t think of some witty reply - he’d been waiting too long, and wanted too much. 

“This,” Sokka said, and closed the distance between them with a kiss. 

Zuko responded immediately, kissing back hot and wet and,  _ spirits _ , so perfect, holding Sokka tight to him, like he thought Sokka might slip away if he didn’t. But Sokka wasn’t the one who kept leaving, wasn’t the one who couldn’t stay. 

_ I want this forever,  _ Sokka thought, still a stupid kid with a stupid crush after all this time. Still dreaming of impossible things. 

“Bed,” Sokka said, when they broke for air, “ _ Now _ .” 

The sleeping platform was only designed to hold one person, but Zuko never complained about it even though he was probably used to some huge four-poster bed draped in silks. He had a palace of his own back in Caldera - he’d mentioned it once, in passing. Sokka could drive himself mad thinking about all the ways their lives were different. 

“Lie down,” Zuko said, and Sokka did - pushing blankets and furs aside so Zuko could straddle his hips, still fully dressed. A throwback to the early days when every encounter was rushed and secret and a little bit dangerous. 

“Missed you so fucking much,” Sokka said breathlessly, “Thought about you all the time, even when I was trying not to.” 

“Me too,” Zuko said, and planted his hands above Sokka’s shoulders, leaning down until the plates of his armor brushed against Sokka’s chest, an edge of intimidation he probably wasn’t even aware of. His breath was hot and sweet against Sokka’s lips, and Sokka almost wished he was a firebender too just so he could drink it in, hold it inside himself.

“When I didn’t hear from you, I thought - I don’t know,” Sokka needed to say it, now, before his thoughts lost coherency, “I thought maybe you -” 

“I’ll always come back,” Zuko said, all serious and intent, “No matter what it takes. No matter what I have to do.” 

But Sokka knew better than to believe that. 

“Just get down here and kiss me already,” He said, tugging at Zuko’s uniform, and Zuko went. 

All Sokka wanted to think about right now was how Zuko’s lips felt against his own, warm and pliant, how desire pooled in his belly with every excruciatingly slow roll of Zuko’s hips. Sokka was already desperate - eight months without sex, how had he even  _ survived -  _ and he knew he could come just from this, from the feeling of Zuko’s tight ass pressing against his cock. He said as much, and Zuko groaned. 

“Don’t, not yet,” Zuko said in a bitten-off voice, “I need you to fuck me.” 

And yeah. Sokka could  _ definitely  _ do that. 

“Should I -” Zuko said, sitting up and reaching for the straps of his armor, but Sokka stopped him.

“No, like this,” He said, and Zuko’s next kiss was molten hot, desperate. Sokka slid his hands down Zuko’s waist to grab his ass, and Zuko moaned, hips twitching. 

Despite what he’d said, there was some undressing that needed to be done - mostly just the ties of Zuko’s pants, so they could be pulled down enough for Sokka to line his cock up against Zuko’s ass, Zuko shivering, eyes closed, biting his lip like he didn’t want to be too loud. 

That was okay. Sokka was good at making him lose his self-control. 

Maybe not as effectively as before - fucking wasn’t as easy as it used to be, not with his leg the way it was, but he’d never minded Zuko on top. Kind of liked it, actually. That way he got to lie back and let Zuko do the work - fucking himself up and down on Sokka’s cock, the shock of pleasure playing out on his face while Sokka watched, memorizing every expression. 

It was difficult keeping himself from falling over the edge, when everything he’d longed for was right here in front of him, but Zuko hadn’t come yet, although he was nearly there, too - he’d started jerking himself off, pitched forward, bracing himself on one hand, hair falling loose around his face. A tangle of black silk. Sokka held his hips and fucked him through it, until they were sweating and trembling and gasping, saying things they only ever really said during sex -  _ I love you, I need you, I can’t live without you.  _

Afterwards, Zuko collapsed onto him for a moment, catching his breath, until Sokka made exaggerated suffocating sounds, and he rolled off, laughing, lazy. Then he sat up a little to remove his armor and let it tumble to the floor. That way there was nothing to separate them as they lay side-by-side, still partially dressed but they’d deal with that later. When they had the energy.

Sokka pressed his nose against the side of Zuko’s face, breathing in. His hair always smelled the same - spicy and warm. Sokka probably smelled like turtle-seal oil, but Zuko wasn’t bothered, clearly. Too busy kissing up the line of Sokka’s throat. It felt good, and Sokka consulted with himself to see if he was up for another round already. Not yet, he decided. But soon. 

“So you really did miss me, huh?” He asked. Zuko huffed a laugh against his skin. 

“Of course I did. You have no idea -” He broke off, “It’s so lonely in Caldera. Everywhere, actually. People too frightened to even look me in the face, then whispering behind my back. Sometimes I -” 

Sokka waited, giving him time, heart pounding. It was always moments like this he thought they had the most hope - the greatest chance to change things. 

“Nevermind,” Zuko said, “We can talk about it later.” And Sokka had to swallow his disappointment like a bitter taste in his mouth. 

There was no  _ later.  _ There was only tonight, and a cold bed in the morning, and no contact for another eight months while Zuko went around the empire, imposing his father’s terrible will. 

They lay together for a while longer, just breathing, re-familiarizing themselves with the feel of each other’s skin, the muscle and bones underneath. The cooling sweat at the small of Zuko’s back, Sokka’s hand fitting perfectly into the curve like it always did. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to try, anyway,” Zuko said, after a while, and Sokka looked up, sort of, twisting his neck to catch his eyes curiously, “I mean, not if you don’t want, but.” 

“Some kind of sex thing?” Sokka asked, interested already. 

“Not exactly,” Zuko sat up all the way, dislodging Sokka, who grumbled, just for show, “It’ll feel good though, I promise.” 

And then he climbed off the sleeping platform all together, hands going straight to that one place Sokka tried not to look at if he didn’t have to.

Zuko took his time unfurling the leg wraps that went up Sokka’s shins, revealing the crooked bone of Sokka’s mangled calf. Sokka bit his lip and forced himself not to look away as Zuko’s fire-warmed hands felt the old break. He supposed it was payback for all the times he’d touched Zuko’s scar, saying  _ keep your eyes open, love, keep looking at me.  _ He tried not to wince. 

“I didn’t know it was still hurting you this much,” Zuko said quietly, “You told me it was getting better.” 

“Well, I lied,” Sokka snapped, and immediately felt bad, “Sorry. I just - can we not -” 

“I went to Bhanti Island,” Zuko said, a non sequitur. He was still touching Sokka’s leg, still looking down at the zig-zag bend in it, “Maybe a month after the battle. It was the soonest I could go. They thought -” He shook his head, disgusted, “They thought I had come to make them swear allegiance to the Phoenix King.”

“Why  _ did _ you go?” Sokka asked. Zuko looked up at him, half-smiling, and Sokka’s heart caught a little in his chest. 

“I wanted to learn from the sages there. I wanted to learn something that could help you.” 

“You can’t,” Sokka said immediately, “Not without breaking my leg a third time and re-setting it, that’s what the healers said, and I don’t even - it broke in so many places, how would you know where to -” 

“Remember that thing I did - actually, you probably don’t. You were sick, imprisoned on my ship. Remember? And I - I used my bending to sense your chi,” Zuko said, which was news to Sokka. He never knew you could use firebending like that. And even as he searched back into his cloudy memories of that time, he couldn’t remember anything but fever and delirium and, ugh. Frogs. 

“You were asleep,” Zuko said, and it sounded like he was confessing something, “I - it felt like I was holding your heart.” 

“You were,” Sokka said, voice a little unsteady. He was always shaken by these moments of honesty, “I just didn’t know it yet.” 

Zuko made a noise deep in his throat, and slid his hand over the worst of the break, that ugly knob of bone, up to the sensitive skin of Sokka’s thigh where he lingered, thumb tender against the inside of Sokka’s knee. And Sokka thought back to what he’d said while they were fucking -  _ I love you so much sometimes it hurts.  _

“Let me try out what I learned,” Zuko said, gaze still lowered, voice intent, “I want you to feel good. I want to - to help you. I’ve been practicing.” 

_ Fuck it,  _ Sokka thought. He’d never been able to resist Zuko when he was like this, “Do your worst.” 

He meant it as a joke, but Zuko’s expression twisted, hurt, like he still thought Sokka didn’t trust him.   _ Idiot _ , Sokka thought fondly, and tipped his head back so he didn’t have to see the flames ignite in Zuko’s palms, so close he could feel the pale edges of fire licking his skin, a heat almost like pain. 

He could feel it, the moment Zuko started doing the chi-bending thing. There was, all of a sudden, a strange, unsatisfying powerlessness in his limbs, like the life-force or chi or whatever Zuko wanted to call it that ran through them was no longer under his control. Sokka shifted, restless, and Zuko murmured, “Stay still.” 

“Okay, got it,” He said breathlessly. This was the strangest feeling he’d ever experienced in his whole life - and that counted the time he’d tripped on cactus juice for fifteen hours in the Si Wong Desert. 

“Does it hurt?” Zuko asked, and Sokka shook his head. It did, a little, but not in a bad way. Just a kind of weird, dull internal pain, almost like getting fingered for the first time (which he had enjoyed, actually. A lot). 

“What are you, uh - I mean, what’s the goal here? Hold my leg in your hand?”  _ Weak, Sokka _ . 

“I’m trying to untangle the lines of energy around the break, to help with healing. Now don’t ask me any more questions, I need to concentrate.”

At that, Sokka opened his eyes. He’d always liked to see Zuko in full-concentration mode, the pink of his lip as he bit it, the solemn set of his brow. This was hard to watch, though. No matter how good Sokka had gotten at compartmentalizing, it was still hard. 

Sokka focused on the play of light across Zuko’s beautiful face, trying to fight back his instinctive fear of firebending. He couldn’t believe he was letting Zuko do this. But maybe it was really just a continuation of something that they’d already had going on for a while - that shameful thing Sokka didn’t talk about; how hot (literally, even) it got him when Zuko lost control and left scorch marks on the bedding, when fucking him was all sparks and smoke and pure, irresistible heat and Sokka thought  _ consume me, burn me up, I want to be yours completely.  _

And then didn’t feel that way at all in any other context.

 

Most days, it was impossible to think of firebending, to think of Zuko, and not remember who he was and what he’d done. What he was a part of - the most hateful family on the face of the earth. Destroyers of lives. 

“You look -” Zuko said, pulling his hands away. The intensity of the heat eased, but its effects lingered - Sokka was half-hard, despite the downturn of his thoughts, “Am I hurting you?” 

“No,” Sokka shook his head, propping himself up on his elbows, “It’s not you. It’s just weird, I guess. Maybe if you weren’t wearing that uniform…” 

“You want me to do this naked?” Zuko asked, lone eyebrow raised, “What if your sister comes in?” 

“That was  _ one time, _ okay?” Sokka laughed, “And I think she learned her lesson.” 

He certainly hoped she had. It was definitely not an experience he was looking to repeat. Apparently, right up until she walked in on them, Katara had been under the impression that their relationship ended pretty much around the same time the letters did. Sokka had never had the guts to tell her they’d started back up again. And boy, did he live to regret that one. 

He shuddered, remembering it. Katara’s big blue eyes round with shock, cheeks red with embarrassment turning quickly to anger. And then the yelling,  _ so  _ much yelling, while Sokka and Zuko scrambled for their clothes, the blankets, anything to protect themselves against her scathing words. 

Zuko cast him a sympathetic glance - obviously remembering it too. 

“Okay, maybe not  _ naked, _ ” Sokka allowed, “It’s just. Firebending. You know.” 

All the raids, past and present. Drunk firebender soldiers setting fire to their tents, their fish drying racks. The charred remains of his mother, curled up on the ground with her hands protecting her face, like that would do anything. Like that could have kept her alive. 

If there was something that could be said for Zuko, it was that he did know. He knew, and he cared, and he was  _ sorry _ . 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Zuko said, “I wasn’t going to. But then when you could hardly even stand up, I just - I thought -” He looked away, shamefaced, “I guess I’m still trying to find ways to make it up to you that I couldn’t do more to help when it really counted.” 

_ You could have,  _ the words went screaming through Sokka’s mind,  _ you still can.  _ But that was a fight for another day. 

“I mean, even a firebender probably wouldn’t trust anyone enough to let them mess around with their chi like that, so…” Zuko said, rambling now a little.

“Try again,” Sokka said, surprising even himself. Zuko had gone all the way to the Bhanti Islands, wherever  _ that _ was, to find a way to help him, and he’d done it years ago, when there was no guarantee Sokka would ever want to speak to him again, “I trust you. Try again.” 

So Zuko reached out and laid his hand on the break, palm warm and dry, and with eyes closed, sent a wave of heat through Sokka’s whole body. Sokka gasped, surprised. Fuck, it felt good, why did it always have to feel so  _ good?  _

“Okay?” Zuko asked softly, and there was that powerless feeling in Sokka’s leg again. He didn’t fight it this time, just let it happen. 

Sokka nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Those few times Katara had healed him before her waterbending went away had never felt like this - like if he just paid attention, he’d be able to sense Zuko’s inside him, searching for him, for the essence of him, picking him apart with exquisite control. When had Zuko learned that? The last time Sokka had seen him firebend in a fight, he was still sloppy, impulsive. A teenager. 

Sokka took a shuddering breath, then another. It was so much and not enough, all at the same time, and he knew every flicker of feeling was plain for Zuko to see. His whole soul, laid bare. And he was helpless against it. 

“Can you - is it working?” He asked. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, this impossible almost-pleasure.  

“Almost there.” 

Zuko’s hand twitched, tugging at something deep inside Sokka, deeper than bone. There was a sudden bright burst of pain, like a knot giving way, and then relief came flooding in, shivery and warm and  _ right.  _ Sokka rotated his ankle experimentally. His leg hadn’t felt this good since before he broke it.

“Stand up, when you can. I want to see if it worked,” Zuko said, sounding excited, “The shaman said I probably wouldn’t get it on my first try, but -” 

“No, I - I think it worked,” Sokka said. He kind of felt like crying. If Katara knew - but he couldn’t tell her. It was too much like waterbending, what waterbending used to be. And she didn’t like to be reminded of what she’d lost. 

Zuko helped him to his feet, and Sokka took a couple steps back towards the bowl he’d dropped earlier. Definitely not fully healed - he’d always have the limp, probably. But the pain. It was gone. He walked all the way over to the bowl, picking it up off the ground. It was his parent’s wedding bowl, soapstone, already broken and repaired in two places. But that didn’t matter, not tonight. 

“Thank you _ , _ ” He said, turning to Zuko, walking up to him, his hands catching Zuko’s. It was hard to be apart, even for a second, “Can I blow you?” 

Zuko’s laughter seemed startled out of him, “Uh, I mean, yes?” 

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic about it,” Sokka joked, and then, for the first time since before the Earth Kingdom fell, sank easily to his knees. 

Zuko got hard within seconds, grabbing onto Sokka’s hair and cursing, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I love this, I love you, keep going, Agni, don’t stop -”

Sokka pulled off halfway through, mouth slick with spit and the salt taste of Zuko’s precum. “Don’t ever leave me again,” He said, and Zuko shook his head, hectic color on his cheeks, chest heaving for breath. 

“I won’t, I won’t, I promise,” He said, and then all he could do was moan as Sokka took him back into his mouth, deeper this time, throat and tongue and lips and hand all working together to get Zuko that much closer to falling off the edge. 

They collapsed into bed after, pulling their clothes off until they were lying skin-to-skin, fitting perfectly against each other as always. Sokka was hard, still, or maybe again, and Zuko got a hand between them and jerked him off, teasingly slow, kissing him through it until Sokka arched against him and came. 

This was the way it always should be - falling asleep together, fucked-out and happy. Zuko’s hand in his hair as Sokka yawned and buried his face in the crook of Zuko’s neck. At this rate, he’d be out within seconds, no problem. Zuko, of course, was still having trouble sleeping, but he’d confided once that it was always easier when Sokka was near, and that was nice, too. Knowing that Zuko needed him, too. 

“We’re better together,” Sokka said, half-asleep already. He heard Zuko’s soft huff of agreement, felt his arm tighten briefly around Sokka’s shoulder. 

But then Zuko’s voice broke the stillness, “I wish I had joined you and the Avatar when I had the chance. When you asked me to.” 

“What are you -” Sokka struggled to make sense of his words, mind racing back to wakefulness despite himself.

“I know we agreed not to talk about it,” Zuko continued, his voice a raspy murmur, “And I respect that. But I just wanted you to know I regret my decision more than anything in the world.”

Sokka squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. One oil lamp was still lit, guttering in a faint draft across the room. Zuko’s face was just the slope of his nose, one sharp cheek. 

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Sokka asked, trying not to sound as angry as he felt. 

“Maybe,” Zuko shifted slightly, casting his face in shadow as he turned to look at Sokka, “But there’s still hope, right? As long as the Avatar is alive?” 

And how could he ask that, what fucking right did he have, when waterbending had been wiped out for all times, and the Earth Kingdom lay in ashes and dust? When Aang was being tortured in some Fire Nation prison, and Zuko was the one to blame? 

“Maybe,” Sokka gritted out.  

Zuko took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. And then he said, “Azula and I and my fa - the Phoenix King are coming to the South Pole in six months. Coming  _ here,  _ specifically. The first official royal visit. It hasn’t been announced yet, but Governor Shu will probably let something about it slip soon. I’ve been working out the details with him on this trip.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Sokka asked. It was his worst nightmare come true - all the extra attention a royal visit would bring, all the extra soldiers, bored and restless and looking to cause trouble. Having to see Ozai and Azula face-to-face, and, worse, having to see Zuko standing beside them, always playing the dutiful son, no matter that he’d been cut out of the line of succession, his weaknesses deemed too profound to be forgiven. 

“They want to inspect the mining facilities. Governor Shu’s going to be putting on a Grand Tour of the Southern Province. I guess Azula also wants to see how the ‘savages’ are adjusting to a more civilized life,” Zuko said, remarkably calm, if a little wry, “I think she’s orchestrating the whole thing, actually. She knows I’ve been coming up here secretly, she just doesn’t know why. I bet she’d love to catch me in the act of doing something treasonous.” 

“But what -” 

“Obviously six months isn’t nearly enough time to prepare, I’d have let you know sooner if I could, but this might be our only chance,” Zuko said, “That’s why I came to see you, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka pulled away from him, out of his arms, to look him squarely in the eyes. Dark gold, with shadows underneath. Always more exhausted than he let on, “What are you telling me?” 

Zuko tilted his chin up, meeting Sokka’s gaze, that stubborn determination burning in him even in the darkness, “I’m going to kill my father. And I want you and your sister to help me.” 

There was a moment when all Sokka could do was sit there in stunned silence. He wanted to ask  _ are you sure, are you sure you can do it, what about your sister, what if they kill you first -  _ but there was no denying the certainty in Zuko’s voice. 

“Six months…” Sokka said instead, “I could probably finish building my radio transmitter in six months. With the right parts, I could do it sooner. We’ll need some way to communicate with our allies once chaos breaks out…" Toph would want to get in on this with her cell of rogue earth-benders, Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors too. And Katara - oh, Katara wanted nothing more than to take the Fire Nation down. 

“So you’ll do it?” Zuko asked, “You’ll help me?”

“Did you really think I was going to say no?” Sokka asked, and almost wanted to laugh. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation - it was amazing how much could change in a few moments, “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him. Whatever you need me to do. It’s not what Aang would want, but Aang isn’t here.” 

“Even if there was another way, I’m not sure at this point I’d take it,” Zuko admitted, “I’m not good, like he is. The Avatar, I mean. I  _ want _ to see my father dead at my feet for everything he’s done.” 

“So do I,” Sokka said, truthfully. He’d never been as good as Aang was, either. But he didn’t have to be. None of them did. They just had to be good enough, “Are you sure, though? I mean, even after everything, he’s still your  _ father. _ ” 

“And part of me will always love him, and hate myself for - for turning against him,” Zuko’s voice wavered for a moment, then steadied, tight, “But it’s time for his reign of terror to end. I can’t - I’m not sure how much longer I can go on, with all this innocent blood on my hands.” 

Sokka didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he took Zuko’s trembling hands, first the left, then the right, and pressed solemn kisses into his palms. Beside him, Zuko started shaking, crying hard. 

“This is the right thing to do,” Sokka whispered, kissing his fingers, “You’re making the right decision.” 

“And if I end up just making things worse?” Zuko said, the words thick with tears, “If I fail, and it was all for nothing?” 

“You won’t fail. I’m with you all the way. No matter where this takes us, I’m with you,” Sokka said. His heart was so full he thought it might overflow, that he might start crying too, “I love you.” 

_ Please mean this in the morning,  _ Sokka thought, a traitorous little doubt he quashed as quickly as he could.  _ Please don’t let this be a dream.  _

He stayed awake as long as he could, drinking endless cups of tea and talking it over with Zuko until the last oil lamp burned out, and then they fucked again - the sex intensely intimate, honest. Barely visible in the shadows - the way Zuko bit his lip as he re-adjusted to the intrusion, pushing past the sting, the soreness, Sokka on top for the first time in - well, a long time. 

“Harder,” Zuko said, “Please, harder.” 

And Sokka gave it to him, everything he wanted. He’d never felt this powerful in his whole life, this full of possibility. They were going to save the world together. And then they were going to rebuild it from the ruins, a world where they could be together without fear, without hiding. A world where all the people Sokka loved would be safe, and the earth would heal, and suffering would cease. It might take a long time - it might take a lifetime, longer - but it would happen. They would make it happen. 

Eventually, and despite himself, Sokka fell asleep pressed up against Zuko’s side, so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open another minute. 

He woke the next morning to an empty bed, and the smell of Katara frying fish over the little coal stove. For a moment, he let himself lie there, heartsick. Zuko was gone, must have left sometime in the night. It was always like this, at first. And then, like he always did, Sokka would get up, and get over it. 

Pulling his pants back on and draping a blanket over his shoulders, he hobbled out into the room. His leg was a little stiff, but nothing,  _ nothing,  _ like it had been even just a day earlier. 

“ _ Finally _ ,” Katara said, turning around, spatula in hand, “Took you long enough. Lunch is almost ready.” 

_ Oops _ . Sokka gave her his best sorry-I-slept-till-noon-and-left-you-with-all-the-chores face, and wandered over to the kitchen table. Their teacups from last night were still out, dregs pooling at the bottoms. Destinies that had yet to be written. There was also a piece of paper, lying face-down, on the splintered wood. 

Sokka picked it up idly. Maybe Katara had found another one of those underground newsletters that were circulating the Earth Kingdom, and brought it back for them to read. They’d been thinking of starting their own. The only problem, of course, being that most of the Southern Water Tribe couldn’t read. 

But when he turned it over, he found that it wasn’t that at all. 

It was a list - four hundred and twenty six names in Zuko’s formal hand. He must have slipped out of bed as soon as Sokka was asleep to have enough time to write them all down before he had to go. Sokka imagined him sitting there, a little flame hovering in his left hand, barely illuminating the page as he wrote. Heat bent over the page, hair falling into his face, ink on his fingers. One smudged fingerprint, in the corner. 

“Thank you,” Sokka murmured, tucking the paper reverently into his pocket. Suki would make good use of this. 

“What was that?” Katara asked, turning around again, briefly, as she removed the pan from the heat, “Did you say something?” 

“No, nothing,” Sokka said, and made his way over to the stove. The fish smelled ready. On a cold, overcast morning like this, there was nothing he liked more than to pick the hot flesh off the bone straight from the frying pan. Maybe he’d make some more of that tea Zuko had left him - Jasmine Green, at Iroh’s request - and then, after they’d eaten, he’d tell her everything Zuko had said, all the new plans they’d made. 

He’d tell her that there was hope in the world again. 

**Author's Note:**

> fireweed is actually an arctic herb, used for pain relief among other things, but the name was just so perfect I couldn't resist


End file.
